


Stuck with the Stag-- A Hannibal Story.

by Fannibal_The_Cannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (Possibal) amputation, Cannibalism, Captivity, Fear, Gore, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Other, Power Imbalance, Someone Help Will Graham, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Will Finds Out, suicidal idealization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fannibal_The_Cannibal/pseuds/Fannibal_The_Cannibal
Summary: Would my rock that gave me stability when I needed it most also be the rock that cracked my skull?Given the situation, I would assume so.(Will Graham figures out who and what Hannibal is at the worst time.)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

It had happened so fast. One second I was pleasantly relaxed at Hannibal's dining room ready for conversation and the next my body was tense like I had been dunked into freezing water. I looked at the perfectly arranged bowl in front of me and shivered. I shifted my gaze to Hannibal who had just sat down in front of me.

"Heart stew with a side of freshly baked dinner rolls"

I give a half smile, and once again shift my gaze back to the meal laid before me. The presentation--per usual-- was lovely, but it occurred to me that I had already seen such elegance today. Sure, most people may not agree with my opinion on how beautiful a corpse is arranged, but the artistry was still there.

The girl had been missing her heart at the scene today... my mind supplied and I felt just a slight bit of repulsion.

'Stop' I told myself.

'Don't think such ridiculous things,' I scolded myself, But it wasn't ridiculous; his tastes are so fine. He cares deeply about art and symbolism. He has served liver, and heart many times before. What normal person eats liver on a regular basis? As much as I wanted to continue to deny the truth, it just has to be. Hannibal Lecter is the Chessapeke Ripper and I am eating people with him. 

Stop. I need to stop before I go too far...

"Is something wrong Will?" Hannibal asks, and my eyes jerk to his. There is concern there but also maybe some... amusement?

"Oh. Uh nothing. I was just admiring your artistry." I supply quickly and pick up my spoon. I cant let anything show. If he knows that I know he'll probably kill me. He watches me as I lower the spoon into the bowl and bring a bite up to my lips. I hide my hesitation by gently blowing on it, and then putting the soup in my mouth.

It tastes heavenly, but then again I knew it would. It always does.

"Tastes delicious," I mutter, and Hannibal quirks his lips upward in satisfaction.

"Good. I was beginning to think that you no longer enjoyed my cooking" he says smoothly and takes his own slow bite.

My heart drops. It seems he is already onto me.

"Never Dr. Lecter. Your food is always great," I supply, but the words seem to be weak in my mind, so I take another bite. I cant help but feel that my hesitation has already given me away. Maybe it is just my newly growing paranoia, but I can feel myself begin to sweat. I keep my eyes on my bowl but I can feel Hannibal staring at me. I'm already dead, I think.

I grab a roll and dunk it in the soup to try. I look up at Hannibal to see if he disapproves and I'm slightly surprised that he doesn't make any faces. As I eat the piece of bread though, it feels dry in my throat when a thought invades my mind.

He'll probably eat me. 

I struggle to swallow as images flash through my head. Me tied down while he cuts into my bare chest. Hannibal tearing into me pulling things out and eating it raw while I am still alive and watching. Him carefully molding my body into however he plans to present me to the public. To Jack. Anything I had ever dreamed about the Ripper was bearable in my lush nightmares, but this time the ravenous monster had a face. The face of a friend who has violently betrayed me.

My blood just runs cold. I can't help it. I feel severe trepidation.

I look timidly at Hannibal across the table. He is looking at his bowl and about to raise a bite to his mouth, but he pauses, as if surprised by something. I watch as he lowers the spoon before inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring out slightly.

Oh no. I knew he had a good sense of smell, but can he smell my sweat? My fear? Thats impossible I tell myself, but it happened when I started having terrible thoughts.

Hannibal flicks his eyes to me with such intensity it takes a huge mental effort to not look away. He slightly cocks his head to the side as if in question.

"Whats wrong, Hannibal? Is there a problem?" I ask trying to ease my guilty conscience, and lessen the tension in the room.

He looks me over considering.

"Is there?" He asks and resumes with the bite he had put down. I feel the dark undertones radiating off him. Fuck.

I take a huge gulp of my wine.

"No. No there's no problem."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

I assume that he is talking about my new revelation, but I feel like I need to continue my act. My self preservation must either be really good or extremely fucked up.

"Ugh, I guess I have been stressed lately, but you know, I'm always stressed."

"There will always be stressful situations, but it can be freeing if you use stress and take it to your advantage"

"Only if the stress is not from mentally harming crime scenes"

He chuckles and then becomes serious again.

"Are you, in this current moment, stressed?"

" I'd say a little, but nothing from this evening."

"Hmm," Hannibal says as he starts to get up. He then wipes his mouth on one of his linen napkins and then starts making his way around the table.

My body goes completely ridged as he moves towards me and gives me a disapproving look.

"I had hoped that you would not lie to me."

Hannibal lunges for Will, but they both had moved at the exact same time, as Will had predicted he would attack.

Will hastily stumbled away from his chair trying to figure out which way to run. He thought that he would have good luck because Hannibal had fallen over Will's chair in his hurry to grab him, but to Will's horror, he had quickly recovered. 

Will raced out of the dining room, with Hannibal close on his heels. He entered the hall way and as he passed one of Hannibal's small wooden hallway tables, he grabbed and pulled it down behind him. While it didn't do very much, Hannibal did slow down to look at it in disdain.

Will saw the front door just in the distance but he remembered that Hannibal had locked it behind him when he came. Will knew that it would take too long if he were to unlock it with Hannibal so close, so he abruptly made a right turn and clambered up the stairs. The tension was high, and as were the stakes. To be caught was to die, and a death from Hannibal was to be excruciating.

Halfway up the stairs Will turned around and kicked Hannibal with all his might Sparta style. The kick knocked him off balance and sent him tumbling downward, as the psychiatrist had not predicted the sudden outburst.

Will continued his way upstairs and entered the room furthest down.

He immediately locked it and barricaded it with a heavy sitting chair that was nearby. Taking a deep breath he looked around at the room he had picked.

'Dear God' he thought. 'This is Hannibal's room'.

It was a nicely furnished room with a nice looking king sized bed. There was also a spacious looking bathroom and walk in closet. But Will could not focus on that. He knew he didn't have very long before Hannibal was going to burst through the door.

He rushed around the room looking for any exits. There were no windows what so ever, (which was ridiculous) and he couldn't decide if he really was crazy enough to jump out of one from the second story of a house. So that meant he needed somewhere... anywhere to hide. He considered hiding under the bed, but he thought that that would be the first place Hannibal would look. Instead he looked in the bathroom and then the closet.  
The closet was wall to wall fine clothes and suits. He turned out the lights in the bathroom and closet and then slipped behind the thick row of hanging jackets, very much like a kid who would crawl in the middle of a clothe rack at a store. Will did his best to move them back and make them look like they hadn't been disturbed.

Suddenly Will heard the bedroom door knob shake, and then abruptly stop.

Will drew a deep, shuddering breath.

'Keep quiet, Will' he thought violently.

The seconds dragged onward in silence while Will's heart beat became more erratic.  
He could feel it in his chest.

The moments of no sound except his heart stretched for several beats too long.

He knew that Hannibal would not have given up so quickly and it was the silence that worried him.

He listened hard.... So very hard for any movement...So hard that he jumped when he heard the soft noise of the chair being slid...

Again the seconds ticked by, as if one moment were stretched into thousands of moments. Will thought he might faint. Self preservation however, prevented him from doing so.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't have a key to a room in my own house? I thought you were smarter than this, Will." Hannibal mocks as he walks around. His steps were deliberately slow. Perhaps in his slowness he was giving Will a chance to reveal himself, or perhaps Hannibal was simply relishing in his soon to be victory, and drawing out the hunt. Either way, Will knew he would loose just like every other victim of the Chesapeake Ripper. How would his miserable existence be of any difference to Hannibal? Will just wished with all his might that Hannibal would be merciful and make it quick.

And thus, Will keeps quiet, and doesn't answer.

"I know you are still in here Will. I can smell every ounce of fear you are letting off right now" he coos. His voice was calm and menacing. But closer. Far closer than Will is comfortable with. Definitely in the bathroom.  
'Any second he will come in the closet and I'll die' Is all Will can think.

He holds his breath as he hears the closet door slowly drag open.  
He sees Hannibal's feet as he prowls deeper into the closet past him. Every step he makes makes Will want to puke with anticipation and dread. He reaches the end of the closet...stops for a second...and then makes a 180 to head back in the direction from which he came. Just when it seemed he might leave, he pauses...only to turn around and stop right in front of where Will is hiding. For one small hopeful moment Will had thought he would be passed, but as Jack had had told him once, he guesses he did attract the killers.

"I've found you Will," Hannibal whispers creepily, but makes no move to get him out.

Will knows that if he is grabbed he is dead.  
Checkmate. Boned. Doomed. Rip-a-rooni. Never heard from again.  
The seconds drag by.

The bastard, like always, is probably curious to see what I will do. I think wearily.

How many others has he had trapped in a moment like this I wonder, where one decision or action is the difference between a fast(er) death and a slow one? I know that there has never been a person to escape him, but would formerly being his friend allow me to be set free? Was there even the slight possibility that I could walk away from this house with my life? Without the imposing shadow of promise that he will come for me?

Hannibal allows the clock to drag on forward and for Will to think about his mortality in this situation. Will is thankful for the kindness that implies, but knows that he cannot stay there forever. He is playing a dangerous game and he knows he is on the timer. What happens when the last grain of sand falls into the bottom of the hourglass is not hard to imagine.

"A-are you going to kill me?" I stutter and my voice cracks. Fuck.

There is a moment of silence.

"Possibly." He says slowly, letting the word roll off of his tongue in such a way that his accent heavily accentuated.  
"Perhaps if you be good and come out from there I wont have to."

"I don't want to die, Dr. Lecter"

"None of us do, dear Will. Just step from there slowly and there should be no problems. We need to have a good talk."

I want to believe him, I really do but I just cant force myself to move. Not in the way he wants me to. I am frozen with instinctual fear. The one that screams to me that this is a trap. The one that defiantly demands that I don't go down without at least attempting to fight back or escape.

"Please...I cant. I just cant."

"You can do it Will. It will deeply sadden me to kill you after all that we have been through together."

"It will sadden you?"

"Yes,"

"But not stop you?"

"Unfortunately, no".

I take a deep breath shakily let it out.

He has already won. I have to be compliant if I want to have any sort of chance out of here.

"Okay." I finally say. My voice could hardly be heard, but I am certain he could hear it.

"I am going to slowly step out now...you said you wouldn't hurt me...that was the deal right...?"

...Nothing

"Right?"

Hannibal makes a noise that sounds halfway like a chuckle and a scoff.

"That would be correct dear Will. Now come to me."

'This is it' I think trying to steel myself.  
'I've had a decent run'...

I take another deep breath...

I exhale....

I wait a few seconds...

'I hope my dogs at least get a good home' I solemnly think, and then I part the suits and I step out to Hannibal.

I don't look at him. I can't. I won't. I dont want to see the look of pleasure that is most likely on his face for my surrender. I just keep my eyes averted. I just stand there. Waiting.

I flinch when a hand cups my cheek and urges me too look at him. I lean into his touch but don't look.

I try to take some comfort from the hands that will carry out my undoing. The hands that would have been welcomed had my realization not struck.

A tear falls and wets his hand.

Would my rock that gave me stability when I needed it most also be the rock that cracked my skull? Given the situation, I would assume so.

"There you go... That wasn't so bad now was it, dear Will?" He coos and gently strokes my face with his thumb.

Close my eyes and let a few more tears go.

"My brave, beautiful boy,"

I didn't miss that he referred to me with a possessive noun.

I just continue to cry.

I don't know how long we stayed in that position, but the moment came to an end too soon. The hand fell away from my face and went to my shoulder. I dropped my head further down, but other than that I didn't move.

"Now all I ask is that you don't fight with me. We are going to go downstairs".

"Downstairs," I echo softly and nod. I know this cant be good. He must have another downstairs. 

A basement.

If we were to go back to the table to finish our meal he would have said so. Also if that were true he would not have asked that I not fight him.

So he still wants to kill me. Even after my compliance. I should have known that the Ripper would want to finish his hunt. After all, the hunt ends after the blood pools, not before it.

I barely get to finish my thought before he starts leading me towards the door of his closet. My feet shuffle sloppily, like a ghost has taken control of them and is having a hard time learning to walk again.

I want to do it.

I want to escape inside of my mind and subconsciously be gone until there is nothing. Until I'm dead.

But I can't.

I feel the pull again. The pull my soul has for life. The one that demands I at least try to escape.

Just as we cross the threshold of the bathroom I make a choice.

With all my might I tackle Hannibal. My aim was to get Hannibal to hit his head on the bathroom counter as he fell, but instead his shoulder hit and he fell on top of me.

Hannibal recovers with a growl and quickly tries to pin me by pushing all his weight on my shoulders. Before he can fully situate I buck my hips and we roll. As soon as I am on top I grab his head and slam it on the tile.

I may as well have done nothing. I had expected for that to stun him into being still for a second but immediately after is hands had found my head. In faster than a snap, he pulls my face to his face and effectively head butts me.

Stunned, I find that I'm suddenly on the bottom with one of his forearms bearing down on my throat to keep me pinned.

Surprised, I gasp for air and start to struggle, punching anything I could reach.

It was fruitless, as I feel him shift again, and suddenly I feel the cold kiss of a blade against my neck.

I go still.

"I really didn't want to have to do this, Will but you are really trying my patience."

The statement was so absurd that I had to laugh.

I ignore the threat of the blade to look as far right as I could, and turn away from him. I don't want to SEE.

I... don't want to see....

I don't...want...to see...

I don't...want. to. see...

My fear suddenly turns to anger as I realize that that is what he must have wanted all along. To see him. To understand him. To look and take part in his activities, because he knows that I find it beautiful.

"Please don't tell me that for one second you were intending to do something other than what you are doing right now once I found out."

I pause to let my words register.

"All of this time you could have killed me, the person that could have eventually caught you, ooh but instead you wanted to play a nice little game," I practically spit.

Hannibal shifts so that he can look at me, and so that I would have to look at him, but I ignore his blade once more and look the other way. My movement causes the knife to slightly cut me but I really just don't care.

"Lets see what I can make poor Will Graham do today."I jeer. "Lets make him jump through hoops and fight with his nightmares. Lets let him chase for a killer that is right in front of him, so that one day I can revile in my victory take what is mine, and let him see the beauty of my design up close!"

Again Hannibal tries to make me look at him, and again I look the other way.

"Look at me!" Hannibal growls.

"Oh you'd love that wouldn't you? You narcissistic ass hole!"

"Look at me!"

"No"

"I am going to stab you if you don't look at me Will" he threatens.

"You're gonna stab me anyway, so why not just get it over with?" I spit defiantly.

"Last chance Will. Look at me,"

"No"

I suddenly feel the knife move to above me so he could stab me. As soon as I feel the movement of it coming down I reach up and grab both of his hands to block the blow. I had wanted to be defiant until the end, but self-preservation, that son of a bitch, got the best of me.

With a grimace, I find that I am successfully preventing the knife (which was only 6 inches from my chest) from finding its mark.

I focus all of my strength and will power on keeping the knife away. My eyes are focused on Hannibal's white-knuckled grip. Hannibal bares a little more weight on the knife and I strain to match the force. I loose an inch in this battle.

If I cave, then I am dead, and there is almost no situation in which I will live. Hannibal has gravity on his side. It is a battle with a pre-determined winner. And I am making it worse by fighting back.

'You have nothing to lose,' my inner voice whispers.  
The weight of that statement crushes my resolve.

Fine.

I'll look.

Ill look as I take my dying breath. It won't be long enough to fully understand, but it will at least bring some closure before I go.

My eyes flash quickly from his hands to his eyes and then back to his hands.

The intensity of this is becoming too much, but I have to see.

I will my gaze to his burning crimson eyes and take it all in.

At first, I see the excitement and the bloodlust, but when I zone out everything around me except the will of my hands against his and the emotion in his eyes, I see more.

I see disappointment.  
I see regret.  
I see understanding in my behavior.  
I see that he wished his reveal didn't go like this. Hannibal will see my death as a waste...except for the meal he gets out of it.

As predicted, It quickly becomes too much to bear. I sense the futility of my resistance. My life will be as long as by body is strong, and my arms are coming close to giving out.

For the second time today I make a choice.

I can't go down because I am weak. I will go down because I have come to terms with my death. I let out a breath that I had been holding because of the strain, and surveyed the sensations of being here in this moment. The weight of the blade above me, and the weight of Hannibal on top of me. The coldness of the slate floor. It would all be gone soon.

Slowly, I lessen my resistance. I allow the blade to come closer to my chest.

Hannibal sees that this is not him overpowering me and quickly pieces together that I am letting this happen.

I can see it in his eyes that he knows.

As I guide the knife slowly to my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as the blade touches my shirt. I take a nice deep breath, and it was then that I stopped resisting completely.

Instead of penetrating my body, the knife stays put. I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I just lay there. frozen with anticipation.

Why did he stop? Did he decide not to kill me? Was he just going to wait until I thought I was free, and then do it? My questions were interrupted when I feel the blade being moved away from my chest.

'This is it,' I think. 'The killing blow'.

Despite my clenched eyes, I feel a tear escape onto my face.

The blow doesn't come.

I can hear Hannibal's light breathing above me, and I assume that he is deciding my fate.

I flinch hard when a hand is placed gently on my face.

I keep my eyes closed as I feel him softly graze his hands through my hair in what feels like a soothing gesture. Then he gingerly swipes the tear from my face.

After a moment he breaks the silence.

"Your tears are salty,"

"Just like the rest of me." I quip. Its not like I have anything to loose. I should already be dead by now. All I can do is feel the weight of the power imbalance between the two of us.

"I'd hope not," he says lightly, and his hands find their way back into my scalp.

When I don't say anything, he just continues to play with my hair. It felt like hours were going by.

Despite my closed eyes and the gentle scalp massage, I stayed tense. He could kill me at any second.

More time goes by.

What does this man want from me? He didn't take the opportunity to kill me and it makes me just so confused.

"Look at me, dear Will" he coos.

This time I look without hesitation. I am his. At his mercy.

His lips produce a rare smile. "You truly are remarkable Will"

I blink. It doesn't make sense. somehow I find my voice.

"Will you let me go?"

"No." He says curtly. "We can't have Uncle Jack bursting down my door with the whole FBI behind him now can we?"

"But I won't.." I try to say, and am cut off by a finger over my lips.

"That's what they all say." He reminds me.

"But I promise. On my life" I beg earnestly. I know that Hannibal does not take kindly to begging, but I feel the need to say it all the same.

"No need. You'll just stay with me until we can prove that nothing will be said. Plain and simple."

I can't believe this is happening.

"So thats it? You're kidnapping me now? I'm to be your prisoner? Never to see anyone else again?"

"For the time being, yes but if you learn to trust me and I to trust you, then I'll let you go"

"The Chesapeake Ripper doesn't strike me as one to take hostages,"

Hannibal chuckles.

"I only save that for the ones I really want to suffer, or in this case, really don't want to kill".

"I don't want to be your prisoner"

"Too bad." He says and he grabs my throat.

I start to sputter and wheeze when he squeezes.

'Not like this,' I think desperately.

"You will survive this, Will. I just have to make some arrangements for your disappearance."

Panicked and low on air, I claw at his hands to no avail.

... I can't breathe and my vision grows dimmer and dimmer with each second...

...God it hurts so much...

When I cant take it anymore, I succumb to the darkness, and everything is gone....


	2. 2

"You are waking...

Waking in a quiet room...

Safe."

Consciousness came back to me in waves. At first I was simply aware of my ability to feel. I felt so detached from everything. The ability to 'wake up' and the ability 'to see' were not on the forefront of my sluggish existence. They felt like they were of no importance. I felt warmth, like I was wrapped in something protective. Comfortable like I had found the perfect position in bed and if I were to move I would feel discontent.  
But despite these feelings, I knew that there was something amiss. After an undetermined amount of time I finally muster enough mental power to open my eyes.

"Where are you?"

When I groggily survey my surroundings I find nothing that triggers any familiarity. It takes me a second but I make my assessment. I...don't know where I am. In fact..

"What do you see?"

I can't...see anything..Its so dark. Why is it so dark?  
Unwarrented, my unease is born and starts to grow. 

I've woken up in a place that I don't know. Now would be one of those times to do a reality check, right? Go down the list? 'Right' my inner voice confirms.

'Whats my name?' Will Graham. 

'Where do I live?' Wolftrap Virginia.

'Where am I?' I don't know

'What time is it?' I don't know.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

'What is the last thing I remember?'

I don't know. I guess that requires a self examination. Slowly, I stretch out on the surface I am on. 'A bed?' my mind supplies.  
'A bed.' I confirm after I register the softness of the mattress. 

First I move my legs and find that they move and feel just fine. Then I move both of my arms and find that they also feel fine. 

'Well now what?' I question and then I decide to do the final test.

I carefully remove the blanket that was over me and sit up.

Immediately I go light headed and bend over to put my elbows on my knees and my head on my hands.

I feel it then. The ghost sensation of a set of hands around my neck. The events flash through my head. 

Him clutching at my throat.  
My gasps for air.  
My hands clawing at his to no avail.  
My last thought.

'Please. Not like this. I don't want to die like this.'

Once again I open my eyes and I find that this time I am really awake. Acutely aware of my situation.

I should be dead.

But wait... He said that I would survive this... 

My head starts spinning from all of the thoughts and emotions going through me.

I'm overwhelmed.

I force myself not to cave by laying back down. 

The Chesapeake Ripper has me. 

Hannibal has me.

And yet I am not restrained?

'Escape' my mind whispers.

Escape? I doubt Hannibal would be so lax as to just let me walk away, but here in this moment... in this dark room, there is nothing stopping me from doing just that.

'Escape' I say in my head like I had just created a bullet on my task list.

Carefully, I stand up.

After a slight moment of dizziness, I feel my way around the edge of the bed and find the wall. 'There are 4 corners in most rooms', I tell myself and slowly walk hugging the wall in search of a door. After rounding the first corner I run into what feels like a dresser and then after grazing around it, I finally feel the door.

After rubbing an embarrassing amount of door, I find the handle and try to open it. 

'Surprise surprise' I think, 'locked'.

With the ability to leave now taken from me, I now search for the light switches so that I may see.

Using the knowledge that most light switches are close to the door, I graze my fingers around until I finally find the switch.

When I flip the switch, I become momentarily blind to the light.

I survey my surroundings to find that I am in a bedroom...

...weird...

I had expected some sort if jail cell, or cage-like room with nothing in it but a cot and a toilet. But this room was fully furnished. Bed, dresser, nightstand, bathroom.

At least Hannibal is not ruthless about my accommodations.

My eyes scan the room untill they fall upon the nightstand and I walk over to it.

Upon it, there is a water bottle and some Aspirin. I knew it was Aspirin because I have practically been eating them like candy for the past few weeks. Next to the water there was a note written in Hannibal's neat script.

"Dear Will,

I hope that that was not too much of a traumatic experience for you, and I sincerely apologize. I'm sure that in this moment you must be feeling terrible. Headache and possible soreness, I suspect. I have provided you with some pain medication pills, and I strongly suggest that when you swallow them you continue to sip the water. It will help soothe your throat. Please do not gulp down the water. It will make you very uncomfortable. Anyway, by the time you read this, I should not be too far away, and we will finally be able to have that talk. In the meantime, I advise that you get some more rest until I arrive. A stressful experience like the one you went through can often be draining. But rest assured that I have no current intention of harming you.

See you soon,

Hannibal"

'How very generous of you Dr. Lecter' I think sarcastically. No current intention. Like Hannibal actually cares how I feel. I bet he just wants me to think that he cares so that he could gain my trust more quickly. 

Well he was right about one thing. My throat does hurt like a mother fucker. I stare at the two pills and fight my urge to chuck them across the room. 

After some careful consideration I decide to take them. I might as well take what little kindness is offered right now. While I still have it.

'I have to be compliant if I want any chance out of this' I recall myself thinking. 

I sip the water until it is halfway gone and decide to save the rest for later.

I sit back on the bed and survey my room. I can't believe the predicament I'm in. Why didn't he just kill me? I'm sure that it would have been more merciful for me to just die than whatever he has planned for me. I feel despair start to well up in my chest. 

Hannibal is a sadist and I can only imagine what cruel torture methods he could employ on me.

It had to be the Ripper didn't it? The one that never makes mistakes. The one that will make sure no trace of me is found. Well... I guess that I'll only be found if he wants to make me into a tableaux for Jack to find. The thought just makes my chest seize up even more with sadness.

Displaying my body in the Ripper's fashion would be the best way for Hannibal to get back at Jack for sending me to investigate the Ripper murders. My time in this room will most likely be very short. After all, the Ripper hates rudeness and I cannot count the number of times I had acted out of turn in his presence. I'm probably good as dead. Surely Hannibal will grow board or annoyed with my presence sooner or later. 

I take a seat on the bed.

Out of all the ways I had fantasized about my death over the years, I never took into any real consideration that I may be murdered. Let alone be murdered by a cannibal serial killer. I had tossed around the idea that the Chesapeake Ripper may get me before, but most of the time it was in my mind after I had found the bottom of the whiskey bottle. And I never thought the Ripper would be anyone I would know.

The pain in my chest from my stress suddenly becomes very uncomfortable so I lay down on my stomach, face down into the mattress. I feel the urge to sob violently tearing through me, but I can't. I know that if I start I'll never be able to stop. 

I bear the pain of dread for around 30 minutes until I hear the door unlock.

In panic, I spring from my prone position into an embarrassing,(though not unjustified) huddle on the bed as far away from the door as I could get.

He stepped slowly in and closed the door behind him. Immediately after there was the sound of a lock clicking back into place. 

His eyes fall onto me and I find that he has a very intense gaze.

"Good evening Will," he says conversationally.

I really don't like this. 

"Hey," I mutter back.

God forbid I be rude. I am trapped in a locked room with a Cannibal.

"May I sit?" He asks referring to the bed. I really don't want him near me, but who am I to tell that to him?

"I'm not going to try and stop you,"

He gives me a look and just sits down.

"Thanks,"  
I can see that he is sizing me up. Staring at my clearly terrified body language.

After a few beats of uncomfortable silence he begins talking.

"Did you read my note?"

"Yes," I reply, but I find I cant manage above a whisper.

"And you took your Aspirin?"

"Yes,"

He dons a look of approval and gets more comfortable in the way he's sitting.

" I'm very pleased to hear that Will. I was almost certain you would deny anything I gave you."

"Had t-to... Take the kindness while I still had it..." I stutter, and I know I've already spoken into dangerous territory.

Fuck my fucking fear. Hannibal ignores my statement.

"Did you manage any sleep?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Why do you think that is Will?"

"You know exactly why I couldn't sleep Dr. Lecter " I shoot back but immediately cringe to myself. His eyes bore into me because I didn't answer his question.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew."

The little bitch.

"Oh I am very aware of the danger I am in."

"Well that is good Will...because I will do what needs to be done if you give me too much trouble."

"Oh I'm sure. Please just understand that I'm scared, not stupid Dr. Lecter."

"I would argue that being scared makes people stupid some times. Besides, talking to me like that is rude Will. I may be the Ripper, but I am not unreasonable,"

'Just like killing and eating people is not unreasonable' I rebut in my head.  
There is a pause.

"I'll just go ahead and address the elephant in the room. We both know that you will want to escape."

I stare at him in silence, unsure of where he is going with his statement.

"I'll give you one . If you escape on that one attempt you are free. I will not hunt you down or anything. That is...unless I get word you have told Jack. However, any other escape attempt after your first will result in your immediate death. You and I both know that I am a busy man and I will not tolerate having to continuously hunt you down."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. That is to dissuade you from making decisions that get you killed. Rash decisions have consequences, and they are often irreversible."

I nod in acknowledgement, and Hannibal doesn't seem convinced.

"My hope is that I will not have to kill you Will. Please do not force my hand." 

"Force your hand," I huff. Sure.

Still his eyes bore into me.

"Okay," I finish to appease him.

He stays silent looking me over. Most likely trying to decide if I'm even worth keeping around.

'I'm not going to be here long if I keep this up,' I conclude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. I know this took a long time, but I am just slow. (I only write when I am in a specific depressing mood). I almost didn't post it until I had more, but I figured it was enough to satisfy a new part. All things should be okay if Will is a good boy, but you never know how he will act.


End file.
